


Easter Morning

by Arduinne



Series: Sweet Silk [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M, Yaoi, au-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:18:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arduinne/pseuds/Arduinne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some worship Easter differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easter Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic since high school. I'm about to graduate college this month and going on to grad school so yeas, it's been that long. I haven't written anything as college has been a pain in my rear end and I'm hoping grad school will be different. 
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy this and I'm sorry for any awkward wording and what not. College is evil and finals are coming up. I graduate in four weeks.

It was Easter Sunday. It was a day where many Christians headed off to Church and prayed to their martyr Jesus Christ. Duo would be at Church today, singing along with his caretaker Sister Helen. Heero would be busy trying to escape the Church while Wufei would be at home meditating, enjoying another Sunday as he was not Catholic like Duo. Heero had no religion but Duo was determined to convert him. 

Quatre Raberba Winner was Muslim so Easter did not have any meaning to him. He sat in the kitchen of his father’s large home and gazed out at the garden. It was a beautiful garden full of roses, ivy, willow trees, Japanese maple, orange blossoms, snowdrops, lavender and daffodils. There were many more flowers and plants associated with the garden but he didn’t want to sound like a proud snobbish gardener. 

However, he smiled for another reason. While the flowers were lovely during Easter there was something else more lovely to stare at. 

Setting down his cup on the plate he sat up and went over to the window. Sunlight’s warm fingers touched his cheeks and illuminated his face, but he knew why he was illuminating as he gazed out the window on a fine Easter morning. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It had been a long morning. Trowa had to force his friend Heero to go with Duo to Church. He told Heero it would please Duo. Wufei was meditating since the night before and seemed to be troubled over something. But he had work to do even though it was a holiday, but he didn’t celebrate it. Just like the family he worked for didn’t celebrate it. 

Cutting the dead head of a rose he watched it fall to the ground. Picking it up, he tossed the dead head into a bag of faded rose heads. Most still had the color of the rose they once were while others were truly dead. 

With his clippers Trowa continued his duty, pausing every now and then to wipe the sweat from his face. Sunlight beat down upon his back making the work harder than it should have but a gentle breeze and the sound of music filtered his senses. Wait? Music? 

Standing up straight he looked around the garden until his eyes gazed through the window of the kitchen. There, standing in the light like a golden flower was the young master Quatre. Of course Master Quatre always insisted on being called Quatre, it was just a habit of his to add in the master. 

Setting down the clippers he headed quietly toward the window, gazing at his golden prince. His breath hitched as he realized what he just thought. No…no…he couldn’t think that in his head! He and Quatre were worlds apart. Quatre was the son of a rich man and he…he had only a sister and a name that wasn’t even his own. Yet he couldn’t help but be drawn to the music, the sounds of a low sweet violin as the golden prince’s fingers slid up and down. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
Quatre played, his eyes closed as his body swayed, fingers gently strummed the strings and he rubbed the bow slow and easy over said strings. He didn’t notice a shadow looming over him as he played, pouring his emotions into the soft low melody. 

He didn’t even hear the sound of the flute that wavered across the air. But he did feel the warm heat as his own body was cold from being inside, the sun’s rays only doing so much to warm him. Pausing, he turned around and saw his object of his music, the muse of his heart. Quatre smiled sheepishly at Trowa, whose one green eye that showed peered at him before closing, the flute continuing to play. 

Strumming up the violin once more he began the tune, their tune. Playing in the Easter morning sun and while they were not at Church worshipping, they were worshipping something else just as important to them.


End file.
